Against My Better Judgement
by FangBreath
Summary: Julia POV. How Julia Thorne goes back to being Sydney Bristow and what she encounters in the process. Sarkney and Sarkia, eventually.
1. The Prisoner

Disclaimer: If I owned Alias, Lauren would be non-existent. Apparently, I don't.  
  
AN: Thanks for reading. Please review, no flames please. =)  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I awoke quietly from what I thought was only an unpleasant dream. I turned my head to observe my surroundings but winced at my pounding head. My arms and legs were cuffed to the legs of the steel chair I was sitting in. I tried to remember how I got into such a compromising position, but my head hurt to much to think. I could feel numerous wounds ache and burn all over my body. My ankles and wrists were bruised from the tight cuffs. My clothes were stained with my own crimson blood. This was no dream.  
  
I heard a woman's high heeled footsteps approach the chair and I quickly pretended to still be knocked out. When she reached my chair she stood still for a long time, studying me, waiting for me to quit my act. But I didn't move a muscle. Finally, she grew impatient with me.  
  
"I know you're awake."  
  
I hesitated for a while, unsure of what my next action should be. I wanted to keep up the act, but my curiosity got the better of me.  
  
"What am I doing here?" My head was still pounding, but lifting my head to view my captor was a risk I was willing to take.  
  
"You are here because I want you to be." She pulled up a chair and sat across from me.  
  
I studied her. She had long, wavy, chestnut hair. The gun in her right hand accompanied by her cold chestnut eyes told me that she was not to be underestimated. The cryptic answer she gave was no surprise. I didn't exactly think she would tell me her master plan.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
She chuckled lightly. "Don't play games. You know who I am."  
  
I studied her for a moment, trying to remember this woman, but it was in vain.  
  
"Who are you?" I repeated.  
  
Her expression didn't flinch, but her eyes told another story. They were deep pools of confusion and worry that she deliberately emphasized in a conscience effort to make me remember her. It didn't work.  
  
"What's your name?" she asked.  
  
I decided to tell her. I had been compromised, the mission had failed, I had nothing to lose.  
  
"Julia Thorne."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
AN: So what did you think? I promise the next chapter will be longer and better. Please review, no flames. Thanks. =) 


	2. The Extraction

AN: I forgot to mention in the first chapter that this story was a request from Siren. Thanks for all the great reviews.  
  
Alicia Jo: Yes, FF.net is the only place I have posted this story.  
  
Distribution: Please ask.  
  
I could almost see her heart break. Her face fell as I spoke those fateful words, but only briefly. She, once again, put up her stone facade.  
  
"Irina Derevko,"she said. "It surprises me that you don't already know who I am. You're employer has clearly not trained you well." She avoided eye contact and spoke nonchalantly, as if her hopes didn't just fall into oblivion.  
  
The name sounded very familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. It sounded so...common. Almost as if I spoke of it everyday. Then it hit me.  
  
"I know who you are."  
  
Irina's head popped up and she studied at me with a hopeful smile.  
  
"You're former KGB, right? The whole spy world knows who you are."  
  
Once again, her face fell, but this time she didn't hide it. She sullenly exited the room, leaving me to my escape plan.  
  
As I was trying to think of a feasible plan, my mind kept drifting to Irina Derevko. The different emotions she had conveyed in my presence were very uncharacteristic coming from a spy like her. She looked at me like she...loved me. Not only was that odd, but also impossible. She didn't even know me. From what I had heard about her, Irina Derevko loves one person and one person only, Irina Derevko.  
  
A soft, stifled voice shook me out of my thoughts. I moved to where the sound was coming from and listened intently. Irina was on the phone talking to- I couldn't tell who. I could only make out one sentence.  
  
"Commence with the extraction." Then "click." Conversation over. I dragged the chair back to it's original position and attempted to guess what the phone call could've meant.  
  
Who was she going to extract? Why was she going to extract them? Who was she talking to? Thousands of thoughts were flying through my head, causing my headache to mildly return.  
  
The door boomed open and heavy combat boots unceremoniously marched in, but I didn't flinch. One tends to expect such things when they are held captive by a mysterious super-spy. The men cuffed my hands and legs and marched me out of the room. Resisting against so many trained men was pointless, so I decided to go along with it.  
  
They shoved me into a black van, blindfolded me, and drove off to an "undisclosed location," as one of the men put it. Procedure, of course. They couldn't very well let the prisoner have the coordinates of their next hide out, that would be catastrophic.  
  
About an hour or so later we arrived. I was led to yet another room with a steel chair to which I was cuffed. Irina walked in with an arrogant stride and, once again, sat across from me.  
  
"Where am I?" I asked.  
  
She smiled evilly. "Why do you ask questions you know I won't answer?"  
  
More cryptic answers. Fabulous. I made sure she saw me roll my eyes. This whole being captured thing was starting to get old real fast.  
  
"What were you looking for?"  
  
"Nothing. I was doing reconnaissance," I lied.  
  
But she saw right through me. "The Covenant wouldn't have an agent like you doing reconnaissance."  
  
One word stood out in her response. "How did you know I was Covenant?"  
  
She put on an overconfident smile. "I didn't."  
  
Damn her. I, Julia Thorne, do not slip up like that. But with her, it was different somehow. She could disarm me with her deep, powerful eyes. I felt naked and exposed, like all my cards were already on the table. I almost felt helpless against her. Almost. After all, I was still Julia Thorne, spy extraordinare.  
  
"What do you want with me?"  
  
"All will be revealed in time," was her inscrutable answer.  
  
She left me alone in the small, empty room. I had to get out there. I felt way to helpless and sitting here, not even trying to escape was not getting me anywhere. I felt like a rat in a cage, waiting for his master to let him out. I tugged the cuffs wildly, but it was to no avail. The chair was way too strong to simply force myself out.  
  
I studied the room, careful not to miss a single detail. There was a metal table with sharp legs on the other side of the room. If the legs were sharp enough, I would be able to cut the chains and escape. The trick was to walk to the table with a chair attached to my limbs and cut the chains while making minimal noise. A nearly impossible task that had to be completed.  
  
I took a deep, calming breath and pushed my weight toward the table. This method was successful, but only for a time. When I was about to take my third hop, the chair fell over and I was left on my side. Just then, the door opened and heavy booted feet clunked inside.  
  
The man unchained me and dragged me into the...living room? He through me onto the beautiful, white couch.  
  
"Irina will be with you shortly," he said in his deep, Russian-accented voice. "Oh, and don't even think of escaping, this is a heavily guarded facility."  
  
The room was stunningly casual. It was elegant, but still appropriate for everyday use. There were two large white couches on either side of a glass topped coffee table. A chandelier-shaped plant was hanging above the coffee table. Green vines with tiny red flowers on them were hanging off the edge of the planter, adorning it in the perfect way. The dark hardwood floor added an edgy contrast to the whiteness of the room.  
  
As attractive as the room was, there was an underlying eeriness I could not place. I felt restless and could not help but squirm uncomfortably in my comfortable seat. I had a feeling that things were not as they seemed.  
  
Suddenly I heard voices headed this way; one was Irina's the other belonged to someone I had not yet met, a British man. The voices grew increasingly louder as they approached. My mind was racing, my heartbeat quickened. The guards were standing outside both entrances, ruining an chance of escape. The door opened and waited for the pair to walk through the door.  
  
As the door opened, the tall, handsome, blond man looked at me and abruptly stopped speaking. His clear, blue eyes went wide with shock and astonishment. He spoke in a crisp, British accent.  
  
"You're dead."  
  
So what did you think? Please review, no flames. 


	3. The Psychotic Stranger

AN: Thanks for all the great reviews! Siren, you're such a nerd! Hope you all like the chapter. Sorry for the shortness of it. Please review.

"You're dead," he repeated. "They found you're body. This isn't possible."  
  
He walked toward where I was sitting and hovered over me. His eyes adopted a dangerous gleam as his mind continued to process this new information. I took this opportunity to speak.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
He ignored my question and remained in a fascinated trance. He spoke just above a whisper.  
  
"How did you do it?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously and grew more dangerous. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "How did you do it?" He repeated his question with angry enthusiasm.  
  
"How did I do what?!" I yelled as I tried to wriggle my way out of the psychotic stranger's grasp.  
  
He let me go. His beautiful blue eyes softened slightly and they stared back at me with a fiery unexplored attraction.  
  
"Cheat death."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said in an obviously confused voice.  
  
He seemed to be angered by my statement. "Yes you bloody well do!" He yelled.  
  
Irina suddenly spoke with a great urgency in her voice. I had almost forgotten about her standing quietly in the background.  
  
"Sark!" she barked. "I need to speak to you."  
  
The man looked like he was about to protest but decided against it. He simply nodded and followed Irina out of the room. I ran to the door as soon as they walked through it and quietly pressed my ear to the white wood. Their speaking was muffled and hard to make out. I could only hear a few sentences for certain.  
  
"Who is she?" the man asked.  
  
"She claims her name is Julia Thorne."  
  
"And she remembers nothing of Sydney Bristow?"  
  
"No, nothing," she replied solemnly. I was perplexed by their conversation, but they stopped speaking and I had no time to contemplate the subject.. Assuming that was the conclusion of the conversation, I sprinted soundlessly to my previous position on the couch.  
  
I lifted my head to look at the two when they walked in. They both seemed more calm then they were before the puzzling conversation.  
  
"I am terribly sorry for my behavior earlier. I had you mistaken for someone else,"he said.  
  
His voice was apologetic, but his look was not. The expression on his face was that of a boy whose mother made him apologize for something he wasn't sorry for. I watched him wearily before I spoke.  
  
"It's quite alright."  
  
He held out his hand to me as a welcoming gesture. "I am Mr. Sark."  
  
I reached out and shook his warm, rough hand. "Julia Thorne."  
  
Our eyes met and our hands lingered together for a second longer than they should have. His blue eyes mimicked their earlier expression of passionate, unexplored attraction. Suddenly the warm expression in the deep blue pools of his eyes changed. He looked at me with a new found coldness, as if he remembered something unpleasant.  
  
He turned to Irina. "What's our next move?"  
  
"We're going to need some equipment," she said with solid authority in her accented voice. "Both of you will break into the facility and take the necessary supplies. The details of the mission will be on the plane. You leave in five hours."  
  
"I don't take orders from you," I spat. Who did she think she was talking to? I wasn't one of her minions and I wasn't about to blindly follow orders from just anyone.  
  
"You will if you want to live," she said before she and Mr. Sark walked out the door. I was not allowed to leave the room. I simply sat on the comfy couch and sorted out the events that had passed.  
  
So what did you think? Please review and make my day! Sorry again for the shortness of the chapter. I will update as soon as I can. =D 


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